Dance With My Father Again
by she.a.punk
Summary: Harvey shushed Jessica when she walked into his office. He didn't want to hear whatever bad news she had. Not right now. Right now, he was listening to his dad. –Spoilers for Point Break- Harveycentric oneshot


**A/N**: Am I the only one that caught this? I get it, we were shocked by Donna leaving, but seriously, Harvey mentioned his _DAD_! So instead of adding to the influx of reaction pieces to that one thing (I shall not speak of it, because I refuse to accept Donna is gone) I'm gonna write about this other thing. And excuse me while I melt with love for Harvey a while…  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Suits_ or _Luther Van Dross_

_Back when I was a child  
__Before life removed all the innocence  
__My father would lift me high  
__And dance with my mother and me  
__And then Spin me around 'till I fell asleep  
__Then up the stairs he would carry me  
__And I knew for sure  
__I was loved_

_From 'Dance With My Father' by Luther Vandross_

Harvey's father died when he was eight years old. His mother never really recovered. She had been a beautiful woman full of beautiful light and after his father...well, she was never even a shadow of the mother Harvey had known for all those years. He blamed her for it at first. The haunted looks and cold words and the way, when she did decide to be affectionate, it seemed to be only because of the resemblance he bore to the man she'd loved.

He didn't blame her anymore. But he hadn't forgiven her either.

Harvey, a child by every definition of the word at the time, found himself thrown quite violently into the world of adulthood and he never looked back. He never got the chance.

He was eight. Not eighteen. He didn't know anything about life or heartache or need or fear.

But he learned.

Fast.

His father had been the breadwinner. He put the food on the table, kept the roof over their heads. In a small town in coastal New Jersey there hadn't been much for the Senior Specter to do in the way of making a living except hauling 50lb bags of fish feed from one dock to another. And he did, everyday, for ten years. He probably would have done it for thirty more if he'd lived. Because if there's one thing Merrell Specter believed in, one ideal he instilled in his sons, it was to protect what belonged to them.

And those two little boys _belonged _to him.

Harvey used to get out of school and wait by the gate for the kindergarteners to get let out. Their house was just under a mile away and while Harvey insisted they could do it, their parents preferred the small children to walk the three blocks to Merrell's work instead. So they did. Everyday. Harvey on the outside closer to the road with Cody on the inside, dragging his chubby fingers along a chain link fence, babbling endlessly at the dogs on the other side.

They would climb up into their Dad's truck, usually the bed if it was nice out, or make themselves comfortable in the break room if it wasn't, and do their homework and play games until their father was done a couple hours later. When he was Harvey and Cody piled into the tuck cab with him and Merrell would drive them all home, put on a record and clean them up for dinner.

Harvey could recall at any given moment now, at least a hundred memories of washing dishes with his brother after dinner, listening to his father hum along with a Miles Davis or Louis Armstrong record playing in the living room, the warm sound filling every corner of the tiny house.

He remembered he and his little brother peeking around the corner after finishing, watching his mother and father sway to the music, a soft smile on his mother's face with her head rested against his father's shoulder. His father with his eyes closed, singing along with the music, hand at her back to keep her close.

Inevitably the boys would be spotted and his mother would step away to make room for them to dance as well. Cody would dance first, Harvey taking up a spot beside his mother's red wing back chair. Cody would step on their father's feet and giggle hysterically as the man walked them around the room in time with the music.

Harvey, at the time, had insisted he was too old for dancing. His father hadn't even blinked at the statement, merely beckoned him over with a tilt of his head and, before Harvey knew what was happening, his father had lifted him by the armpits and was spinning him around the room. Harvey heard his mother smile, Cody falling all over himself with laughter in her lap. He remembered laughing himself, he remembered the way his father's chest had vibrated against his back as the man continued to sing right along with the record as if nothing was happening at all.

But what Harvey remembered most, was the rain.

It was raining the day his father died.

Sometimes, if Cody took a nap, Harvey would sit up at the window or on the edge of the truck bed and stare out over the docks, sharp brown eyes searching for just one glimpse of his father's red flannel jacket.

He could look out over the entire yard and see everything. Including the crane that was used to unload the larger items form the ships. Including the way the safety protocols were never enforced.

And he could see, quite clearly, the way his father never saw the crane turning toward him. He saw him standing too close to the giant machine. Saw that the man driving the crane didn't see his father standing nearby.

Harvey saw his father take the hit and fall the to the ground and never move again.

Harvey was the first one to call 911.

The boys sat side by side in the white hospital waiting room for what felt like forever. Harvey doesn't really remember much about that part. But he remembers riding home in the front seat of the station wagon in the middle of the night, the sound of his mother crying drowning out the radio and Cody's head heavy on his shoulder as he slept.

His mother had carried Cody to bed when they got home. Harvey's face was hot and he couldn't breathe right so he went to the living room, staring blankly at the records there on the shelf. He sifted through them blankly for a while until he came across one that wasn't familiar to him. He pulled it out, studying the cover and was surprised to see his father's name written on the front along with the faded image of a trumpet.

The next thing he knew, Harvey was standing in front of the record player, the sound of his father's voice introducing the song, clicks and pops interrupting the heart aching sound before he started to play the instrument, the gentle chords and harmonies filling Harvey up and closing his throat.

His mother appeared at the end of the hallway and Harvey blinked several times to get rid of the tears he hadn't realized had gathered, swiping a hand across his nose and watching her approach. There was a look in her eyes he didn't recognize at the time, but would later identify as disbelief and sadness and fear and anger and grief. He saw her lips moving but never heard her, couldn't make out the words past the blood rushing in his ears. He knew only the way his cheek stung from the slap, and the shock on her face as she pulled her hand back to her chest.

The song ended with Harvey still staring at his mother, his father's voice suddenly coming across the speakers again, and he watched her turn and leave the room, slamming the door to her bedroom and waking Cody.

Aching and upset and hurt and empty, Harvey made his way down the hall to his room and crawled up onto Cody's bed, folding the smaller boy against him, protecting him from…everything. Something he guessed he'd be doing for the rest of his life now, if for no other reason than to make his father proud one last time.

The 49th floor office was bathed in afternoon sunlight and Harvey blinked himself out of a flood of memories and looked up at Jessica when she marched into his office wanting to talk. He shushed her when she began to speak, an old familiar ache spreading across his chest as the melody ebbed and flowed.

"Shh," he said, wishing to freeze in this moment, never again moving forward or backward, "my dad."

_**So that's that. Hope you liked.**_


End file.
